The Bourne Coalition 007
by Harlequin Fiction
Summary: One year after the events of "SkyFall" (5 years after the events of Quantum of Solace/The Bourne Ultimatum), David Webb, or as he was known six years ago, Jason Bourne, returns to London, England after a failed attempt on his life from an assassin. Gareth Mallory, MI6's new M, aware of the violence that follows Bourne, assigns the task of following him to Agent 007, James Bond.
1. Chapter 1

**A Note to the Reader(s): This is my first attempt at a crossover story, and I hope (if this is successful) it won't be my last. The story you are about to read is about if James Bond met Jason Bourne (The Bond franchise owned by EON and MGM &amp; The Bourne franchise owned by Universal Pictures). This first chapter is somewhat of a prologue, containing the Waterloo assassination scene from The Bourne Ultimatum and the epilogue of Quantum of Solace. This is mainly due to wanting the readers to understand what the characters are like and what they have gone through (also so I don't have to throw in pointless exposition in the middle of the story). The end of this chapter is when more originality and the start to this story begins. The two characters do not meet in the first chapter, and... maybe not the second either, but they will eventually.**

**I would also love any suggestions in the future from readers in their reviews/private messages as to what they want and expect from this crossover (and I will give credit if I use any). So without further-a-do, I present...**

**The Bourne Coalition**

**Waterloo Station - London, England  
1406 Hours**

_Blackbriar_. The name kept repeating over and over again in Bourne's head as he kept moving at a steady, quick-walk pace. _What is Blackbriar?_ he continued thinking to himself. He was near the west entrance of Waterloo Station in London, England. His thoughts troubled him, but quickly his instincts to act kicked in as he saw two men with wandering eyes in the Waterloo crowd. _Provocateurs_. They were both tall, around six feet. They both had grey-brown, buzzed haircuts, and one was wearing a green jacket while the other wore a brown coat. They were after Ross.

Simon Ross was an English reporter for _the_ _Guardian_. Before he wrote the article about Bourne, he was practically nobody, but now... he was a target. His articles and knowledge of Treadstone and Blackbriar made him a threat to the CIA's name, and they already had eyes on him before Bourne managed to get in contact with him by slipping a cellphone he paid for at the station into his coat pocket. He then called and revealed to Ross just how much trouble he was currently in.

The two agents looking for Ross were nearly in a line of sight of their target; Bourne could see. Bourne reached for the mic that was in contact with the phone he gave to Ross.

"Tie your shoe," said Bourne. "Tie your shoe right now. Tie your shoe," he repeated.

Ross began to kneel, out of the agents' sight, as he held the phone in his right hand, while a brown, leather bag with the evidence of Blackbriar's existence was slung over his left shoulder. "Oh, shit," he exclaimed. He looked around, seeing the two men after him wandering in the crowd as he continued pretending to tie his shoe. He looked around, seeing if he was clear.

"Wait," Bourne ordered on his microphone. "Wait."

Ross looked over his right shoulder and saw that the two agents were moving away from the position they held. Bourne looked at a steel pillar ahead of him, waiting for a surveillance camera to turn away from his position. It started turning.

"Alright," said Jason, "I'm gonna walk by you, and I want you to move along the far wall to your left." Ross glanced to his left. Bourne started walking in his direction. "In 4 – 3 – 2 – 1... stand up." Ross complied. "That's it," said Bourne as he passed by Ross' left shoulder.

* * *

Noah Vosen, CIA Deputy Director of Operation Blackbriar, stood in the under cover bureau of the CIA located in New York. The room he was in was currently showing all the camera angles within Waterloo Station on the plentiful amount of display monitors at the back of the room. His eyes were wide with anxiety. If Ross managed to get out and publish the information he recently acquired, it would all be over. Blackbriar, the Treadstone cover-up, and his career. The analysts did all they could at their keyboards to locate Ross' movements.

"Where the hell is he," questioned Vosen. "We cannot afford to lose this guy, people!"

* * *

"_Ladies and gentlemen..."_ the voice of an English lady on the intercom at Waterloo began to say. Bourne looked ahead of him as the intercom continued its messaging. He saw another camera planted against a brick wall and a boxed sign with a logo on it. It was facing his right direction.

"All right, that line you're on is good," stated Bourne to Ross on his mic. "Stay on that line. Stay on that line." Ross looked all around him in fright and uncertainty. As he could hear the many people in Waterloo Station talking, he looked ahead of him and noticed a janitor with a metal cart. The "Caution: Wet Floor" sign and a bin full of cleaner on the cart blocked Ross' vision of what else was behind it. _Could there be a gun on there?_ The janitor continued wheeling the cart towards him.

Ross couldn't conceal his concern anymore. "Oh, the bin man, I think he's one of them," he exclaimed to Bourne on his phone. Bourne turned to his left immediately to see if he missed a follower.

"The garbage man," asked Bourne. He looked carefully at everything about the "bin man." The way he was looking, the way he walked, his stance... everything. Nothing about him matched up with what trainee assassins were taught how to act... just as he once was, ...but that was a long time ago. "Negative," assured Bourne.

Ross could see the janitor reaching into the cart, slowly. "Oh, Jesus," said Ross, "Jesus! He's reaching for something." The feeling of terror grew in Ross' mind. He nearly wanted to scream out. "Oh, God, he's got a gun," Ross speculated.

"Stay on the line," replied Bourne. If Ross broke down in view of the public, their cover would be blown.

"He's got a gun," exclaimed Ross, and he repeated "He's got a gun!"

"Stay on the line. Do not deviate," Bourne was instructing, but it was already too late. Ross began running to the right. Bourne looked up and saw a camera pointing straight forward in the direction that Ross was running to.

* * *

The reporter showed up on the CIA display screen, running in paranoia.

"Okay, there he is," exclaimed the lead analyst of the operation.

"There he is," repeated Vosen.

"Here he goes. Grab Team A Go," shouted the lead analyst.

Vosen turned to him. "He's still talking to somebody."

"He's getting instructions," said the lead analyst, "Jimmy, get me the conversation." The other analysts began working. "Come on, lock the box. Lock the box. Move in, Grab Team C."

* * *

Bourne noticed the two operatives from before heading in Ross' direction.

Ross was breathing heavily, scared and still walking fast. Bourne's voice came through the phone. "Hurry, Ross," said Bourne, "We gotta move."

Jason saw Ross heading to a kiosk. There was a shop straight ahead called _Delice de France Pátisserie – Boulangerie_. "Okay," said Bourne, "move through this crowd. Move through this crowd. Get under cover right now. Move through this crowd."

* * *

Paz, the assassin with the brown jacket and a backpack, separated from the other operative and entered a door for maintenance workers. He went up a flight of stairs and made his way through a corridor lined with white, brick walls.

* * *

Bourne looked at Ross' progress, then checked a few meters behind him. He noticed the operative with the green jacket pulling something out from his jacket's pocket. It flicked a blade out of its grip.

"Get in the store," Bourne quickly instructed.

Ross quickly glanced back, noticing the man with the green jacket pushing through to him. "There's someone on your tail," said Bourne, "Get in the store."

Bourne walked around a magazine stand. He looked to his mic. "You're gonna proceed out the east exit. That's to your right as you come into the store." Bourne stood near the entrance to the store, where Ross would soon be.

Ross looked behind himself again. The agent with the knife was still following, and getting closer every second. As Ross entered the store, he passed a small stand with tabloids, where Bourne stood waiting. In a flash, Bourne stepped out to the side of the stand after Ross had passed it and grabbed the agent's hand with the knife in it. He quickly flipped his wrist and did a quick jab into the chest with the blade, straight into his diaphragm on his side. Bourne laid him on a bench by an advertisement stand and quickly started moving again. He observed the several stores lined up in the station.

"Head into the liquor store in front of you," advised Bourne.

Ross obeyed as he entered. He listened intently to the phone. "Go into the back and lock the door," said Bourne on the phone.

* * *

An analyst at his computer turned to Vosen with news about the operative Jason stabbed.

"Mobile Four is down."

Vosen looked all around the displays, not finding Ross on any of the screens. "This guy's got help," Vosen stated. "Tell me when the asset's in the nest."

Ross got to the back of the liquor store and shut the door, locking it behind him. Jason could see two other provocateurs heading to the back.

"Get me a feed in there," shouted the lead analyst in the display room. "I want Grab Team C in there. Tell me what's going on."

* * *

Bourne observed the two operatives as they jiggled the door handle. They quickly got out of the store and went to Bourne's right, looking for an access door. Bourne followed.

"Team Four is mobile," stated one of the agents on his walkee-talkie.

The agent Jason was following found an access door. He entered it, and before it closed, Jason quickly grabbed it and continued his pursuit.

* * *

Ross walked down the corridor the liquor store door led to. Up ahead were a few steps down, leading to another hall on the right. An agent emerged from the hall to the right and he quickly aimed his SIG-P229 Pistol at Ross. Bourne quickly popped out from behind the agent and smacked down hard on his arms. He dropped the gun. Bourne then grabbed him from the back of his jacket and threw him against the wall, punching a high area on his spinal chord. He was subdued.

Bourne turned around to see Ross lowering his arms from a cowering pose to a look of astonishment of Jason's shear brutality. Jason quickly grabbed Ross and pulled him down the stairs, away from the door he was standing next to. As another operative emerged from the door he just pulled Ross away from, he was ready and applied a quickly chop with his flattened hand to the agent's jugular, followed by a punch to the low stomach area. He fell back in pain.

Another agent came into the hallway, this time through a door behind Bourne. His arm was outstretched as he held a gun in his hand. Bourne quickly grabbed the underside of his elbow and flung him around and sent him colliding into the agent that was still in pain. He then flung him over his shoulder and onto the stairs. Now Jason had the gun.

The agent who he flung the subdued operative into stood and launched himself at Bourne, trying to get hold of the gun, but Bourne managed to punch him twice on his right shoulder. Jason could hear another agent coming into the hallway from behind. He spun the agent that tried to get his pistol around and used him as a shield. The agent couldn't get a clear shot, and in his hesitation, Bourne was able to hit him up against the wall with the assassin he had a grip on. The agent hit his wrist on the corner of the wall, forcing him to drop the gun. Bourne punched him once in the thorax and he fell in an unconscious state.

He took the only agent left and spun him over, hitting the stairs hard. He cringed his back and face in immense pain, but he wasn't out. Jason leaned over to where the other agent fumbled his pistol. He picked it up and with one, powerful stroke pistol-whipped the agent in the face, subdued.

Jason walked down the few steps to Ross, who Bourne could tell was in shock. Something caught Bourne's eye in the top right corner of the hallway. He looked up and saw a camera watching them.

* * *

In the CIA bureau of the New York building, Vosen and the analysts stood in awe and worry to what they just witnessed. Bourne on the display led Ross out of the camera's view.

"Jesus Christ," said Vosen as he began nodding to him understanding the situation at hand. "That's Jason Bourne."

"He's picking us apart," said the lead analyst. "Do you think he's the source?"

Vosen nodded. "He's got to be." Vosen thought on their next move. "Block all the exits... give the asset a green light. ...Take them both out."

* * *

Paz continued down another access hallway. It would lead to the advertisement board shutters. He climbed a small ladder to another level. He was located directly behind the ad shutters. The perfect vantage point.

* * *

Bourne was leading Ross to another section of the hallway. They reached a steel door with a circular window on its high center.

"Stay there," ordered Bourne. He observed the Waterloo crowd outside the window. "I'm gonna get us outta here. You gotta do exactly what I say." Ross was typing something in on his phone when Bourne looked back to see him. He approached Ross, annoyed with his intentions.

"This isn't some story in a newspaper," said Bourne. "This is real! You understand me?"

Ross nodded. "Okay."

Bourne exited the hall door and looked all around as he moved through the station.

* * *

Paz was unpacking all the assembling pieces to his SG-552 Commando assault rifle from his backpack. He twisted the silencer onto the barrel.

* * *

"Call all agents back," said Vosen to the team. "Give Bourne's location at the back of the store to the asset."

"Yes, sir," confirmed an analyst.

* * *

As Bourne moved among the crowd, he saw several people reaching for their ears. They began to move away from their position. Away from Bourne. Something wasn't right.

* * *

Paz inserted the magazine into his fully assembled rifle. He mounted it on a stand. His phone beeped twice. He checked. The phone lit the words "Incoming Tasking." It then displayed two pictures of the targets. On the left was a picture of Jason Bourne, and to the right, Simon Ross. Paz memorized their faces and readied himself as the ad shutters opened to a view of the station.

* * *

Vosen was still watching the display of Waterloo. "Kill the cameras."

* * *

Jason could see all the surveillance cameras in Waterloo station suddenly look to one side then down_. They're being switched off._

"Bourne?" The voice was Ross on his phone. Bourne held the mic to his mouth.

"Wait," said Bourne. "Something's not right."

Ross looked out the circular window of the door he was still standing by.

"I can see the entrance from here," said Ross. "If I go now, I can make it."

* * *

Paz loaded the sniper round. It double-clicked into place as he aimed down his scope at a steel door with a circular window.

* * *

"Bourne," asked Ross.

Jason looked all around. Something was about to happen. "Just stay where you are," Bourne said.

"I don't think we should wait," said Ross on his phone. As Bourne heard Ross say this, he noticed the advertisement shutters high in the walls of Waterloo Station. As Bourne was realizing what was going on, Ross spoke again on his phone.

"I think someone's coming. ...I'm going for it!"

Bourne began running for the door where Ross was at. "No, no, no, no, no!" But Bourne was too late.

Ross burst through the door.

* * *

Movement came from the steel door Paz was aimed at. He pulled the trigger.

A cloudy trail of red spewed from Ross' forehead.

* * *

**Утешение Apartment Complex - Kazan, Russia  
2104 Hours**

Yusef Kabira, one of Quantum's many members, opened the door to his apartment in Kazan, Russia. He was leading his current target for seduction, Corrine Veneau, to his apartment. He flicked on the lights of his apartment. He now saw that he was not alone.

As he turned to see the room, Yusef noticed a tall man with short, brownish-blond hair and bright, grey-blue eyes. He wore a black black trench coat and was holding a Walther PPK in the grip of his leather gloves. He had been sitting in a chair behind shelves on the side of the room.

"Sit down."

As Corrine turned around from closing the door, she heard the voice. She saw him too. "Sit down," he shouted.

"It's okay, baby," assured Yusef to Corrine as she held his right elbow. The two walked over to a sofa near the opposite side of the room the man in the trench coat was facing. They sat.

Bond stood up, his PPK aimed at Yusef. Kabira was tall. He had short brown hair, had a slight indent in the skin bellow his right eye, and wore a black leather coat. Bond stood gazing at him. _So this was the man that betrayed the trust of the woman who loved him_. Yusef Kabira's job in Quantum was to seduce high-ranking women with valuable connections. After that, Quantum would fake his abduction and hold him for a ransom to the woman who thought she loved him, Vesper being the latest of them.

Vesper Lynd was a liaison agent from the HM Treasury's Financial Action Task Force. She and Bond were assigned at Casino Royale to stop LeChiffre, a poker mastermind from winning a Texas hold-'em game that would give him money to finance Quantum's terrorist plots, as well as to pay off debts to freedom fighters from Uganda who used Quantum as an investments agency. LeChiffre, however, double-crossed their trust and used that money, betting that the stocks of air-flights would lower. He attempted to blow up an aircraft at a Miami airport to ensure they would, but he failed to due to Bond's interference.

After winning the poker match, Bond transferred the money into a Swiss bank account. After being tortured and nearly dying, Vesper and Bond became lovers. It was too good to be true, however, because Vesper was a victim of Kabira's deception, and she stole the money from the account to pay the ransom off. Bond fought to get to her and the case of money, but due to the building they were in collapsing into the waters of Venice all around them, Vesper died, drowning in a sunken elevator shaft, not even wanting to be rescued due to her guilt of betraying her and Bond's love.

Bond was sickened by Kabira's work, and yet at the same time was reminded a little of his own profession. Bond's attention turned to the Canadian agent. She had dark brown-red hair and wore a black shirt and pants.

"You're Canadian," asked Bond. "You work in Canadian intelligence?"

Corrine remained silent.

"It's all right. I know you do," said Bond. "And knowing this man, I'd guess you have access to some very sensitive material, which you're gonna be forced to give up. His life will be threatened, and because you love him, you won't hesitate."

The Canadian agent still remained silent, stunned and saddened. Bond noticed the piece of jewelry around her neck. An Algerian love knot.

"It's a beautiful necklace," said Bond. "Did he give it to you?"

Once again, Corrine was silent. "I have one just like it," said Bond as he let Vesper's love knot slide through his hand, letting it dangle as he clutched its chain. "He gave it to a friend of mine. Someone very close to me. ...Your name is?"

Finally, she spoke out. "Corrine."

"Corrine. Corrine, I suggest you leave now," said Bond with a small, reassuring smile. "You contact your people, and you tell them to check their seals. They have a leak. Do it now, please. ...This man and I have some unfinished business."

Corrine got up from the sofa, grabbing her coat and went to the door. "Thank you," she said softly as she exited. The door clicked shut. Bond was still aiming his PPK at Kabira, gazing as he decided his fate.

"Please," said Kabira, "Make it quick."

* * *

Bond exited the apartment complex. Two other agents walked in afterwards. M stood waiting for him.

"Is he still alive," M asked.

"He is," Bond confirmed.

"I'm surprised," she stated. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

"Yes."

"Good. ...I assume you have no regrets."

"I don't," said Bond. "What about you?"

"Of course not," she replied. "That would be unprofessional. They found Greene dead... in the middle of the Bolivian desert of all places. Two bullets in the back of his skull."

_Quantum must have found out_. Dominic Greene recently tried to sell the role of leadership of Bolivia to the exiled General Medrano by promising an overthrow of its government to give him a chance to become its president. However, Greene held back the information that he was damming a large percentage of Bolivia's water supply in the deserts' underground sinkholes, making Medrano pay higher interest rates to make Greene's company the nation's water provider.

Bond managed to interfere with the deal along with Camille Montes, who held a grudge against Medrano since she was a child. She killed Medrano, her and Bond escaped, and Bond left Greene alone in the desert with nothing but a can of motor oil, stating to Greene, _"I'd bet you make it twenty miles before you consider drinking that."_ "They found motor oil in his stomach," stated M. "Does that mean anything to you?"

"Wish I could help," replied Bond.

"You'll be glad to know, I straightened things out with the Americans. Your friend, Leiter's been promoted. He replaced Beam."

"Well, then the right people kept their jobs."

"Something like that."

"Congratulations," said Bond. "You were right."

"About what," she asked.

"About Vesper," he answered. "Ma'am." He walked past M.

"Bond."

Bond turned.

"I need you back," said M.

"I never left." Bond turned away again, and as he walked away, he released his grip on Vesper's love knot, letting it fall into the snow-coated ground.

* * *

**Domodedovo International Airport, Russia  
0816 Hours**

Bond sat at the bar counter at Domodedovo International Airport, located near the southeast of Moscow. He held a Vodka Tonic in his hand. His flight was scheduled to leave in approximately fourteen minutes.

Bond was lost in thought. For the last two nights, he stayed in Moscow, finding that he was able to sleep well for the first time in a very long time. Perhaps it was because he had finally let Vesper go. He had forgiven her, forgiven himself, and had finally found his own solace. He downed the rest of his drink.

"_The president convened an emergency cabinet meeting today to discuss the growing scandal over an alleged government assassination program, code-named Blackbriar,"_ stated an American voice playing on the television in the bar. Bond looked up and saw the MSNBC news bulletin about the story. "_CIA Director, Ezra Kramer_," said the reporter,"_is under criminal investigation for authorizing the program, which in several cases may have even targeted US citizens._"

_Felix has to be going through a lot of paperwork right about now. _thought Bond. Bond met Felix Leiter at Casino Royale, after being eliminated from the poker match due to his own cockiness. When LeChiffre made him lose all his money, Bond was prepared to do things the old fashioned way and take him out with a silver kitchen knife, but that's when Felix got involved. Felix told Bond about him working for the CIA and stating that they wanted LeChiffre in custody too.

Leiter knew that he himself did not have the poker skills to beat LeChiffre, but if anybody did, it was Bond. They made a deal that he (on behalf of the CIA) would pay to keep Bond in the match if the CIA got hold of LeChiffre afterwards. While Bond did win, plans changed when LeChiffre was killed by a member of the then unknown, Quantum.

Felix helped Bond out again when he informed that he and his partner, Beam, were sent to make a deal with Dominic Greene. The deal was that the CIA would turn a blind eye on the status of Bolivia in exchange for any oil or valuables found in the Bolivian desert. Felix told Bond about the deal as well as the location of Greene's desert hotel hideout, La Perla de las Dunas. _If the CIA keeps what they're doing up, Felix could become CIA Director in no time._

"_Two agency officials have already been arrested."_ continued the reporter. _"Dr. Albert Hirsch, the alleged mastermind of the Blackbriar program, and CIA Deputy Director Noah Vosen, the program's operational chief. Meanwhile, mystery surrounds the fate of David Webb, also known as Jason Bourne, the source behind the exposure of the Blackbriar program. It's been reported that Webb was shot and fell from a Manhattan rooftop into the East River ten stories below. However, after a three-day search, Webb's body has yet to be found."_

Bond released a slight smile at the prospect of surviving a fall of about 100 feet after being shot (not expecting that he would do just the same four years later after being shot off a train while trying to reclaim a list of undercover agents from a highly skilled mercenary in Istanbul). _Maybe, just maybe he could have survived._

Behind the bar counter, the bartender approached Bond. "Will that be all, sir?" he asked in Russian.  
Bond thought. In Russian, he replied "One last drink. ...Three measures of Gordon's, one of vodka, and half a measure of Kina Lillet... shaken, not stirred."


	2. Chapter 2

**Five Years Later...**

**Grozny, Chechnya**

**2235 Hours**

The UAZ-469 carrying the lead Chechen rebel, Khalid Murat, and his second in command, Hasan Arsenov, rolled in an armed convoy through the bombarded streets of their capital. In front of them was a GAZ-33097, carrying the majority of the rebel soldiers. Two BTR-60BP armored personnel carriers rode with them, one stationed behind Khalid's vehicle, the other in front of the GAZ carrier.

The convoy was on its way to Hospital 9, a Chechen rebel outpost in Grozny. Khalid looked out his window, viewing the abandoned, ravaged streets of his beloved home, covered in rubble from smoking buildings.

"Compliments of the Russian wolf," he said with his arm pointing to the view. "Once Grozny was a beautiful city and a beloved home to many of my people." He shook his head. "Look, Hasan, how the Russians have crushed every-thing that was good and fine!"

Hasan Arsenov nodded in accord.

"One day, Hasan," said Khalid, "I tell you, Chechnya will be free from the Russian yoke."

"Tell me, Khalid," said Arsenov, "as the moment of truth is upon us, what reservations you have."

Murat raised his eyebrow, not understanding what Arsenov was asking. "Reservations?"

"Don't you want what's rightfully ours, Khalid, what Allah decrees we should have?"

"The blood runs high in you, my friend. I know this only too well. We've fought side by side many times - we've killed together and we owe each other our very lives, yes? Now, listen to me. I bleed for our people. Their pain fills me with a rage I can barely contain. You know this better, perhaps, than anyone. But history warns that one should beware what one wants the most. The consequences of what's being proposed - "

"What we've been planning for!"

"Yes, planning for," Khalid said. "But the consequences must be considered."

"Caution," Arsenov said bitterly. "Always caution."

"My friend." Khalid smiled as he gripped the other's shoulder. "I don't want to be misled. The reckless foe is easiest to destroy. You must learn to make patience a virtue."

"Patience!" Arsenov spat. "You didn't tell our citizens, _our_ people, the men we ride with today, to be patient! You gave them guns and ammunition. You set them against the Russians. Each day we delay is another day that these men and thousands like them risk being killed. It's the very future of Chechnya that will be decided by our choice here?"

Murat rubbed his forehead. "There are other ways, Hasan. There are always other ways. Perhaps we should consider - "

* * *

**Seconds Ago...**

The figure of a Russian assassin was prone on the rooftop of Hospital 9, straight ahead of where the Chechen convoy was approaching. He was dressed in a snow-camouflage jumpsuit with a kevlar UTG Tac vest. He aimed down the sights of the scope attached to his modified Finnish Sako TRG-41 bolt-action sniper rifle with a silencer attached. In his left hand was a detonator with two buttons. _Two buttons, two blasts_.

* * *

**Now...**

The front BTR-60BP and the GAZ-33097 drove down the beginning of a ramp that led to the parking lot in Hospital 9.

"Perhaps we should consider - "

_Bang!_ C4 charges suspended over the arched entrance to the parking lot blew, sending down piles of rubble that separated the armored BTR and the GAZ inside the parking lot from the UAZ and the other BTR still stuck outside.

* * *

Now that the GAZ was out of the way, the Russian assassin had a clear shot at the vehicle with Khalid and Hasan inside. The assassin exhaled as he began squeezing the trigger...

* * *

The driver of the UAZ-469 was panicking as he turned the wheel, trying to back out from the entrance. _Phutt!_ The bullet of a silenced rifle penetrated the bridge of the driver's nose, straight in between his eyes. Arsenov looked over to Murat and saw that he was bracing himself against the corner between his seat and the door.

Murat looked to Arsenov one last time with a face of defeat. _Phutt!_ The assassin's second bullet penetrated Khalid Murat's trachea. He was dead.

Arsenov quickly pulled the handle to his door and exited the vehicle, running to the BTR behind. As the rebel soldiers began exiting the back of the armored carrier... _Phutt!_ The assassin's third bullet pierced Arsenov's right knee as he was running for cover behind the BTR. He yelled out in pain.

One of the soldiers dragged the injured Arsenov behind the cover of the BTR while the others quickly aimed and fired their AK-74Ms at the peak of the building where the shots originated. After seconds of continuous shooting, the rebels stopped to insert new magazines and waited for returning fire. There was none.

"T'eghurtu," shouted a rebel. It meant they were advancing on the building.

* * *

The assassin changed the channel that the detonator was set to. He readied his thumb on the trigger.

* * *

The Chechen rebels reached the access door to the building's staircase that led to the roof. Two rebels positioned themselves on the two sides of the door, readying to breach. Another rebel kicked the door in and they began sprinting in.

When the assassin heard sound of the rebels' breach, he waited one second and clicked the trigger.

The C-4 charges in place by the staircase went off, surrounding the rebel soldiers in fire and concrete debris. Hasan Arsenov, nearly unconscious, was the only one left from the convoy. He still hid in cover from behind the BTR, thinking that another convoy would soon come.

* * *

The Russian assassin took out a cell phone from a pouch on his tac vest and pressed redial. He began disassembling the rifle and inserting it in its carrying case.

A man answered the phone. "Is it done?" he asked. His accent was British.

"It is," confirmed the assassin.

"And Arsenov?"

"Still alive. A shot to the back of his knee. Nothing more."

"Good," said the voice on the phone. "The money has been transferred into your account... along with a bonus."

The assassin paused. "That was not expected, ...but it is not what I asked for. Did you get it?"

"Yes. The files have been sent to your laptop profile."

As soon as the voice on the phone said this, the assassin removed his laptop from his backpack and booted it up.

"I was beginning to think he was dead," said the assassin.

"In a way," the voice said, "he has been."

The computer finally powered up. The assassin clicked on the sent file. It opened a photo of a zoomed-in view of Georgetown University in Washington D.C. taken by a drone. Behind a window to an office, there was a man holding a folder filled with papers. He was dressed in khaki pants with a dark brown leather belt and a green-brown sweater. The assassin had hardly recognized him after nearly six years.

He clicked on another tab in the file that showed the profile of the man. "David Webb" was the name it displayed, but to the assassin... to Kirill, that man was still Jason Bourne. Kirill rubbed his scarred face, left over from his pursuit of Bourne in Moscow. Bourne ended up driving him in his vehicle into a concrete divider. Kirill was nearly killed, but now, he was ready. He had a score to settle.

"I hope the information in the file is helpful," said the man on the phone.

"Thank you," said Kirill. He hung up.

* * *

The man on the phone with Kirill hung up his phone and placed it down on his glass desk.

"Ms. Stacy," he called to his secretary outside his office, where the only light in the room entered through.

"Yes sir?"

"Book me a flight back to Barcelona, won't you?" he asked. The light from Webb's photo on his desk computer reflected on his reading glasses. "I have business to attend to."

"Yes, Mr. Praxus."

* * *

**Georgetown University - Washington D.C.**

**1440 Hours**

It was spring. Students at Georgetown University were leaving their classes after their professors ended their lectures. One student in particular was anxious to leave the area near his class as fast as he could. His name was Rongsey Siv, a Cambodian student.

He had his hybrid backpack-laptop case slung around his right shoulder. He gripped it tight as he walked fast, fearing confrontation with a few thugs he saw around campus since a couple of days ago. They were discretely waving pocket knives at him. Rongsey didn't see any. That was a good sign... but he then felt a hand grasp his left shoulder and what felt to be the handle of a non-erect switchblade knife digging into his back.

"Alrigh' gook," said the thug behind Rongsey, "you see that lil', narrow alley by that corner? Well we 'bout to go there to socialize, righ'?"

Rongsey's heart beat continuously faster as the thug guided him in the direction of the alley with his hands. When they reached the alley, the thug pressed him against the wall as two more figures in hoodies emerged.

"You got any goods, gook? Show us what ya got so we can trade 'em in."

Rongsey stood, scared stiff.

"You hear what he say?" demanded another thug to the ring-leader's left.

"Nah, I don't think gook here wants to," said the thug on the right. Rongsey looked to the thug on the leader's left and saw that he was sliding a wooden baseball bat down his right sleeve.

"So you want your knuckles broken all at once, or one at a time," the bat-wielding thug asked while brandishing his blunt weapon.

"Man, he don't get to choose," the leader said.

As the thug began raising the bat to strike, Rongsey closed his eyes, waiting for the pain. Just as the thug's arm was swinging the bat downward to strike, another hand caught the bat. Rongsey opened his eyes, wondering why he wasn't hit. The man who grabbed the bat had approached so silently and so suddenly that no one noticed him until after he grabbed the bat. He proceeded by hitting the thug holding the bat's handle in the nose with his elbow and kicking the side of his knee in.

The thug let go of the bat in pain as he fell to the floor, holding his nose and knee. The leader holding the knife quickly aimed the switchblade to the man, but the man flung the bat into the bridge of his nose. He dropped the knife and backed away as he held his nose.

The last thug began pulling out what looked like a colt pistol out of the inside of his jeans. The man quickly kicked the bat as it was settled on the toes of his shoe after it fell, and it connected with the thug's sternum. He then held the thug's arm holding the gun upwards and he twisted his wrist with a simple snap. The thug yelped as he dropped the gun. The man finally punched the thug in his ribs at the same time as kicking the gun away with his heel.

The thugs, all injured and afraid, exited the alley, out into the streets. Campus security passed the student as well as the man in the alley, chasing after the thugs. Rongsey stood in shock after witnessing what just happened, as well as who was the one responsible for it.

"Professor Webb?" Rongsey asked, stunned and confused of the savagery of his linguistics professor. David Webb stood silent for a few seconds, abashed that one of his very own students had to see him regain the Bourne persona once again, but quickly, his attention turned to Rongsey.

"Are you alright?" Webb asked. Rongsey looked around, still confused.

"I suppose," he replied. They walked out of the alley, back onto the university's campus. They came across a manila folder with spilt term papers that Webb dropped when he heard the commotion in the alley. "Let me help you with those."

"Thanks," said Webb as he and his student placed the papers neatly back into the folder. "I was just on my way to Barton's. Listen, Rongsey, ...do you want to talk about those guys? About what just happened?"

Rongsey shook his head. "I'm fine, Professor Webb. It's not the first time I've been threatened because of my race." The Cambodian student walked away. Webb felt bad for Rongsey, and he was upset on the events of the day. What just happened would probably be reported to Theodore Barton, his department's head. Webb was sure he would want to have a talk with him.

* * *

**London, England – United Kingdom**

**Same Time (1945 Hours Time Zone-Converted)**

A silver Audi R8 LMS Ultra pulled up to the sidewalk outside Club Stompanato. The nightclub emitted flashing rays of neon pink and violet lights as well as the booming sound of the dance music's bass. A man wearing a grey trench coat, black leather gloves and a fedora, stepped out of the vehicle. He was Arthur Bermire, the owner of the club.

He walked passed the line of visitors waiting entry in the club. The bouncer of the club saw his boss approaching and gave a small nod that it was okay to enter. Bermire pushed through the crowd of his club and made it to the back, where there was a steel door guarded by two tall men. He opened it and walked in.

The door led to a white-stone corridor with another steel door at the end. He walked down the corridor and opened it.

In the center of the room, a man wearing a white shirt, loosened black suit and tie, and a cloth sack placed over his head was having his head held into a trough filled with water by a muscular man in a black shirt and pants. Another man was standing in the back of the room, darkened by shadows.

Bermire tossed his fedora to the man in the shadows and approached the man in the trough. "Pull him out," he said. The man holding the drowning man's head in pulled the collar of his suit, pulling him out of the water. The covered man was gasping for air.

"Where did you find him?" asked Bermire.

"He was in storage, where the merchandise was," said the henchman holding the covered man. He pulled a box-shaped object that was no bigger than a matchbox out of his pants' pocket. "Caught him trying to place one of these on the cache." It was a tracker. Not activated.

"This all doesn't seem the kind of thing that would happen to you," Bermire addressed to the covered man. "But, then again, everyone has their off-days." He approached the man with the sac on his head, who was still breathing heavy. "Both, my previous competitors and employers alike have warned me about you. I have looked forward to this day, when I would have finally met, face to face, the famous James Bond!"

As Bermire finished speaking, his hired man removed the sac from the man's head, but the face revealed was not the one Bermire was expecting to see.

"I really hate him," said the drenched Q.

"This is not the right man," exclaimed Bermire. "Kill him!" However, just as the hired man took out his garrote wire from his pocket and readied it around Q's neck, Bermire raised his hand as a signal to stop. "Wait," he looked around. "When I was called here for this, who's voice was that on the phone?"

"That was the new guy you hired," said the man holding the wire. He pointed his eyes to the man in the shadows, who had tucked the fedora behind his belt.

"...I didn't hire another man," said Bermire.

The figure in the shadows removed a Walther PPK from his Berns-Martin shoulder holster, wrapped around his white shirt. He aimed it at the man holding the wire and fired a bullet through his skull. Bermire quickly ran out the door of the room and sprinted down the hallway. The man stepped out of the shadows, towards Q.

"Hello, Q. How's the holiday coming?" Bond asked.

"Not very well, 007, seeing as you just used me as a distraction and nearly got me killed," exclaimed Q.

Bond gave a light smile. He had called Q to the back of the club, saying that the tracker he had was faulty, but the reality was that Bond didn't see any way to get past the guards, so he used Q to distract the guards so that they would detain him while he placed the tracker on the weapons' crates. He then subdued a guard and made himself look like one, slipping into the room with the torturer.

"Where's the car?" Bond asked as he cut the binds wrapped around Q's hand.

"It's in the alley," said Q. Bond nodded, acknowledging.

"Good," he replied. As he began to walk out, "Oh," he said as he stopped and turned back. "First things first." He pulled of Q's black suit and slid off his tie. He began putting it on as he left the room.

"Why did I go into espionage," Q asked to himself.

* * *

Bermire burst through the door that led into the club's main area. It was crowded with several people, dancing to the booming music. It would take forever to walk past them all, so he quickly pulled out his concealed Glock 17 and fired two rounds in the air. The civilians shrieked in fear as they cleared a path for Bermire to push through.

Bond sprinted through the door not long after, his PPK pointing up in his right hand. He looked through the crowd and saw the path that they made for Bermire. He then saw they grey trench coat-wearing Bermire nearing the entrance. Bond sprinted after him.

Bermire quickly exited the building and opened the door to his Audi. He reached into his coat for the keys and started the car. As Bond pushed through the door outside and aimed his pistol, Bermire sped off. Bond quickly ran to his right until he reached an alley by the club.

He reached into Q's suit pocket and pulled out a set of keys. He pressed the unlock button and as he looked ahead, he saw the headlights of a beautiful, storm grey Aston Martin DBS V12 flash on. He grinned.

* * *

Bermire sped through the streets of London in his Audi R8, constantly checking his rear view mirror to check for any pursuers. He let out a sigh and laugh, believing he evaded confrontation with who he could only guess was an MI6 agent. But in a second, he saw two headlights turn around a corner in his rear view mirror. It was catching up fast.

* * *

Bond drove behind the Audi as it began to serpentine. With the narrow road, Bond didn't see a way to drive next to or past the vehicle. Inside Q's jacket, a phone began ringing "Rule Britannia." Bond reached into the jacket and saw that it was Bill Tanner calling, the Chief of Staff at MI6. Bond answered.

"Q," Tanner said after Bond picked up. "What is the current sta-"

"It's Bond," he interrupted.

"007? What's going on? Where's Q?"

"I'm afraid he's a little indisposed of at the moment. I'm in pursuit of Bermire and the tracker has been placed on the caches. They've just been shipped."

"Wha-" Tanner tried to get in a word.

"Sorry. Can't talk right now, Tanner. Driving." Bond hung up the phone. He saw the Audi take a right, and just ahead of the two was the Lambeth Bridge. They were near the south bank of the River Thames. Thankfully, the bridge was closed due to refurbishments being made so almost everyone would have to use the Westminster Bridge.

Bermire continued straight on and slammed through the "Closed" signs placed out before the start of the bridge. Bond had enough room to pass, but Bermire continued to serpentine. His Audi had too low a suspension for Bond to get a good shot with his pistol to hit the tires. _Looks like I'll just have to improvise_. Bond thought.

Behind the shift was a compartment that bond slid back. In it was a chilled bottle of champagne and two glasses. Bond grabbed and lifted the bottle out from the compartment. Bond then pressed the car's cigarette lighter into its socket, waiting for it to heat up. He then took out the pocket square from Q's jacket and shoved it into the already uncorked bottle.

The lighter's handle popped out and Bond grabbed it. Bond was about to light the handkerchief but quickly turned the bottle to see the label. It was a bottle of Moet &amp; Chandon Dom Perignon Charles &amp; Diana 1961 priced at about £ 2,576. "Very nice," Bond commented.

He pressed the lighter to the tip of the pocket square and it began to catch fire. He placed the lighter back in the socket and opened his window. He waited until Bermire swerved out again, and finally, he did. Bond threw his expensive molotov cocktail out the window. The bottle crashed and shattered just next to the bottom of the back right tire to the Audi, and the champagne burst into a cloud of flames that engulfed the Audi's rear, blowing the back two tires.

The Audi spun out of control and the back end crashed through the side railing of the Lambeth Bridge. Half of it was suspended over the Thames and the other was just barely touching the road. Bond stopped his car and got out, walking to the front of the Audi. Bermire, dazed from impact, looked out of his cracked windshield. Bond was looking down at him.

"If you want to live," said Bond, "you will have to follow everything I have to say."

Bermire nodded and said "Yes."

"You stop your shipping business. Arms, drugs, and anything else, shut down."

"Alright," said Bermire as he discretely reached for his holstered Glock.

"Second, you leave England. If you attempt to re-enter, MI6 _will_ be there."

"Anything else?" Bermire asked, his hand now on the pistol's grip.

"One last thing," Bond replied. "A word of advice:"

Bermire pulled out his pistol and aimed, but Bond was fast and pushed on the hood of the car with his foot. The back end of the car tilted over and brought the shouting Bermire and the rest down with it.

"Never try to play a game of bridge with me," said Bond.

Big Ben began to strike, signifying that it was now 8:00 PM. Bond looked at the clock, lit up at Westminster Palace, just across the bridge. Bond grabbed Bermire's fedora he kept in his belt and tried it on his head.

"Nice hat," he said before driving off.

* * *

**Author's Note: Hello, Readers. It's been... quite a while since I published the first chapter, hasn't it? I am sorry about the wait, but the thing is I was pretty busy during summer break. I went to New Hampshire for a bit and I've just been held back from writing more of the story for a while. I hope I should be able to post things more regularly now. When I wrote the first chapter I had a few ideas on what to do with this story, but I hadn't clearly thought out the plot until now. For those of you who have possibly read the Bourne novels, you may recognize the beginning of this chapter. I actually got the bit with the Chechen rebels and Bourne as a Georgetown professor from the the Bourne Legacy (novel version) because hardly anything from the Bourne Legacy novel was used in its film adaptation and I thought it would be a pity if it wasn't used for anything else. Not to mention it was a well-written sequence. I changed the character of the assassin from the book to Kirill, who you may recognize from the Bourne Supremacy movie, played by Karl Urban.**

**P.S. I have also used the time in between these chapters to think of other projects I could work on. So far I have thought of...**

**-a Hunger Games prequel all about the Second Quarter Quell in which it all revolves around Haymitch**

**-an Expendables-ish story in which some of the best action video game characters have to fight a powerful villain (which would include Commander Shepard from Mass Effect, Master Chief from Halo, Max Payne, and others)**

**-and possible sequels to this story that would reunite Bond and Bourne and potentially add another/other famous espionage character(s).**

**Leave reviews on this story and comment if you are interested in reading any of my future story ideas.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Georgetown University - Washington D.C.  
****0813 Hours**

Webb sat opposite the department head, Theodore Barton. There was nothing yet but awkward silence between the two.

"Look, David," Barton sighed empathetically, "there's nothing wrong with what went down in that alley yesterday. You aided a defenseless student. While I would expect and appreciate a bit more discretion from you, especially after the CIA came knocking on my door to ask me personally to let you work here after your pardoning, I can't say I really blame you."

Webb nodded. Barton took him under his wing at the University since the first day he arrived. After surviving the jump off the building in Manhattan five years ago, Webb went to the CIA Deputy Director Pamela Landy, who then asked him the question he didn't even bother to think about when he finally found his true identity: _What are you going to do now? _It was Landy who inspired him to become a linguistics teacher, reminding him how wide a variety in tongues he has. The news and rumors of his existence began to die down, although that might also have been part of the CIA's doing.

"You can go," said Barton, "I'm sure you have lots of term papers to go over."

Webb nodded. "Alright." He stood up and walked to the office door. As he began opening it, he turned around. "And Teddy, ...thanks."

* * *

Kirill walked down the hallway of the main campus building, a single-strap case flung over his right shoulder. His sweater, khakis, and glasses made him look almost like a perfect stereotypical teacher, which is just what he was hoping for. The students that passed by him couldn't even tell that he had never been there before.

It had been over two days since his successful objective in Grozny. He arrived in D.C. that morning after driving from his flight which landed in Baltimore, Maryland. Kirill walked down the campus hallway until he reached the school staircase and climbed to the second floor. He walked down the hall with empty classrooms. At this time of day, all the classes would be out.

He reached a locked wood door and discretely pulled lock picks out from his left pocket and, making sure no one was coming, unlocked it and entered. The room's lights were off and the shutters were closed. It was a nice vantage point to Bourne's office. He placed his bag on a desk near the window and removed his sniper rifle's pieces concealed in it.

Kirill clicked and slid everything into place, the silencer being the last part. He raised the blinds ever so slightly so that he would get a decent view without having to expose himself much. He pulled the glass pane down from its hinges and set the rifle down, looking through its scope. There was one problem, however. Bourne wasn't in his office.

* * *

Webb was in the exterior campus, walking between the main building where Barton's office just was and the building of the college which held all the classes. The entrance to the building where his office was located was further down the path between them.

On the sides of the path were a series of trees and the students would normally go to this location to either interact or study in privacy, but something was off...

* * *

The sight of Bourne outside made Kirill change his position from the window to the left side of the classroom to the window three to the right of him. While he would have preferred to kill Bourne in his office rather than outside in the light of day, he couldn't risk being in the classroom for too long. He adjusted his scope and settled the crosshairs just over the bridge of his nose.

Everything in Webb's instinct was telling his something was wrong and that he was in danger. He surveyed the whole area. Each individual shadow and window he could see. He saw a reflection of light coming from a second floor window, where the blinds were bending upwards from something sticking through them.

With a brisk pace, he moved behind the nearest tree in the path... and that's when the Bourne part of him heard the all too familiar, subtle _phutt_ of a silenced rifle's round hitting the tree he was behind. He waited and waited. He quickly reached his arm around the trunk of the tree, feeling where and how the bullet made its impact. He felt the angle of the hole and traced its trajectory to the window of the building across from him.

* * *

Kirill grimaced at Bourne's fortunate perception. He realized he couldn't stay there. If Bourne had a mobile phone, he would be able to send for help without leaving cover. It was only a chance, but it was a chance he couldn't afford to take. He began disassembling his rifle and packing it in his case again.

This wasn't over.

* * *

Bourne waited longer. Waited until minutes before the next set of the day's classes were to begin. Whoever was after him wouldn't have risked staying with more people around.

He filed a leave of absence in the main campus office, saying it was for family purposes, and made his way to the faculty parking lot. He did a quick, thorough inspection of his gray sedan, making sure there were no bombs placed near the engine, on the underside of the car or in the back. Everything seemed normal.

As he got in, he opened his contacts list on his phone. He thought of calling the CIA, but the problem was he didn't know who was after him. He couldn't trust anybody... except one person. He selected the contact and the phone rang four times before...

"_Nicky Parsons,"_ she picked up. Nicky Parsons was a field operative who coordinated logistical operations years ago in Operation Treadstone. They saw each other again in Amsterdam and later in Madrid. After the events in Manhattan she got an office job in Seattle, and they agreed that if anything went wrong in the future, they would contact each other and would each have code words to say if they were safe to talk.

"_Hello?"_

"Brownjohn," Bourne said his code word. There was a pause.

"_...Greengrass,"_ Nicky confirmed. It meant it was safe to talk. _"David, what's wrong? What's going on?"_

"I don't know," he replied, "but minutes ago an attempt on my life was made. I don't know who he is or maybe even who they are, but there's a chance you could be in danger too. I'm heading to the airport now. You know what to do and where to go."

"_Yes,"_ she assured. _"I'll get there as soon as I can."_

"Okay. Bye." Bourne hung up and removed the phone's memory card. He snapped it in half and threw it out the window along with his phone. He had to catch a flight to the location of the safe house...

in _London_.

* * *

**London, England – United Kingdom  
****1619 Hours (Time Zone-Converted)**

Bond parked his DBS and entered the headquarters of MI6. He was called in that afternoon after last night's confrontation with Bermire. He still wore his fedora. As he went to M's office, he heard a familiar voice.

"007," Tanner was shouting from behind. He caught up to Bond in the hallway they were in. "There you are, Mal-er, M has been waiting for you. Whatever he's called you in for he's certainly anxious about."

"And you have no idea what that is?" Bond asked.

"No. He hasn't told me anything about it other than it has to do with something that happened over five years ago."

"Five years?"

"Yes." They reached the door that lead to M's secretary's office. "You can head right in," Tanner said before walking away. Bond opened the door and walked in to see Moneypenny at her desk on the right side of the room.

"And how are we today Miss Moneypenny?"

She looked up smiling. "Feeling better than you must be, James. You have bags under your eyes. Late night?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact," he replied as he took off his hat.

"That's new," Moneypenny realized. Bond put it back on and posed his head.

"What do you think?"

"It's nice, actually. Though I never figured you for a hat person." Bond took the fedora off as he noticed a hatstand on the opposite side of the room.

"Well, I could change that. I could wear it with me to dinner," he tossed the hat perfectly onto one of the stand's hooks, "and maybe you could come along. A night of dancing, fine dining, a peaceful boat ride down the Thames..."

"Should I be expecting a visit to my place afterwards," she interrupted.

"Perhaps," said Bond as they each leaned in closer to each other.

"Be careful," said Moneypenny. "You could end up being all hat... and no cattle."

Bond smiled and walked to M's office door. He entered. Gareth Mallory, who was M for a little over a year, sat at his desk, reading files from a binder and smoking his pipe.

"You wanted to see me, sir," asked Bond.

M closed the binder and emptied out his pipe in his ash tray. "Yes, 007. Do have a seat." As Bond sat in the chair across from M, M pulled a file out from his desk and slid it to Bond, and he opened it. It contained a black and white photo and complete biography of David Webb, a.k.a. Jason Bourne.

"I remember him," said Bond. "He was on several news broadcasts a little over five years ago. Is that what this is all about?"

M was silent. "What else do you recall about Jason Bourne?"

"Not much," Bond replied. "He was supposedly shot off a Manhattan rooftop."

"And before that, he was in London. Waterloo Station to be exact." Bond pulled out a picture and report of the assassination of Simon Ross, a reporter.

"He was in London? I can't say I remember that."

M nodded. "I didn't think you might. As memory serves over five years ago you were on a mission investigating Greene Industries. You were in Bolivia at the time if I'm correct."

Bond nodded, remembering the mission very well. "Not exactly one of my favorite adventures," he admitted. "And this Simon Ross, Bourne killed him?"

M shook his head. "No. It was a CIA attempt to eliminate both Bourne and Ross at the station to cover up their top secret initiatives."

"Didn't go too well for them now, did it? So, why bring this up so suddenly?" M gestured to Bond to flip through the file more, and he did. It showed a picture of Bourne taken by airport surveillance in America.

"Because a few hours ago, Jason Bourne withdrew a significant sum of money and paid for a flight to London. Nothing was pre-paid for and according to the University he works at, he announced his leave not long before he boarded the flight."

"And if I was going on a spontaneous holiday," said Bond "I wouldn't really want to visit somewhere I was linked to a killing."

"I want you to find him when he leaves the airport. Monitor him to the best of your abilities, and if necessary, confront him. We don't know why he's come back or if he means harm, but wherever he goes, danger's been known to follow."

"Yes sir," Bond confirmed.

"And lucky for you, a friend of yours is in town. Felix Leiter. He's agreed to meet you at the Lobby Bar in an hour to give you some information."

Bond nodded and got up from the chair, walking to the door.

"And Bond?"

He stopped. "Sir?"

"Q wants his jacket back."

* * *

**Washington D.C. - United States  
****Same Time**

Kirill sat in his motel room in D.C., flicking the lid to a cigarette lighter up and down repeatedly. _He was right there._ he thought to himself. His cell phone rang, the caller i.d. Displaying the caller "Mr.P." He picked it up.

"Yes?" Kirill answered.

"_He's heading to London,"_ the caller said.

"How do you know this?"

"_Do you think intelligence agencies are the only ones with eyes and ears?"_ the caller replied.

"Thank you," said Kirill.

"_It wasn't a problem, really. But know this, Kirill: should anything you do link your affairs to that of my own, ...I promise you a life on the run."_

"Understood." Kirill hung up the phone. _Time to book a flight to London._

* * *

**London, England – United Kingdom  
****1727 Hours**

Bond pulled up to the Lobby Bar in his DBS. He walked into the rather fancy pub and looked at the bar seats ahead of him. He noticed a familiar face in a tan trench coat. It was Felix. Felix raised his hand, gesturing he was there. Bond walked to the bar counter and sat on the stool to Felix Leiter's right.

"Felix," greeted Bond.

"James," he greeted back. He pointed to the drink in front of him. "I already got you your usual."

Bond took the vodka martini. "Thank you." He took a sip and paused. "It's stirred."

Felix looked over. "Last time I heard, you didn't give a damn."

"...I was in a bad mood that day." He drank a bit more. "So what exactly are you doing here Felix?"

"Well, I was actually sent here to monitor the exportation of illegal arms owned by a Mister Arthur Bermire, but lately I've heard he's recently 'disappeared.'"

"...Well I hope you find your man," said Bond before he took one last sip. "So, what can you tell me about Jason Bourne?"

Felix looked around the bar, seeing that no one else had any interest in them. "I didn't know much about him. Over five years ago I was in a different branch of security in the CIA. Let's just say the top secret projects were beyond my pay grade. Soon enough though, everybody was looking for Bourne. I would have been too if it weren't for my previously set assignment with my partner, Beam. When I got back to Langley, there was non-stop hunting for him in New York. I saw some surveillance footage of Bourne in a car chase and some from his escape in Manhattan."

"And?" Bond asked.

"...He's good, James. _Real_ good. He's like the American version of you. Maybe even better. He's lethal, intelligent, and almost always one step ahead."

"You're not interested in him anymore?"

"He was pardoned. The CIA doesn't interfere with his life... however, we may occasionally send a drone over to check up on things."

"America."

"Indeed, brother. Indeed." He clinked his bourbon shot glass with Bond's empty martini glass and gulped it down. "I have to be leaving soon, but let me say this, James: Whatever MI6 wants with Bourne is strictly your business, but if you must confront him, ..._don't_ underestimate him."

"I'll keep that in mind," Bond said as he began to stand up from the stool. "Thank you Felix. Always a pleasure."

"Always," Felix replied before Bond left. He looked down at his empty glass. "Can I get another one of these please?"

* * *

**Author's Note: Gah! Finally finished the third chapter. Sorry for the wait. You wouldn't believe the trouble I've had to get some time to write. I've mostly had to work on this during snow days when students can't go to school. Anyways, the story is continuing and we're almost to our first meeting of the two agents. I've been wondering how I would execute it, but after careful consideration, I think I know how it will turn out.**

**Just for some fun facts, I always like putting little easter eggs in the chapters I'm writing. For example, the club "Stompanato" in the previous chapter was named after John Stompanato, a bodyguard for the gangster Mickey Cohen. Stompanato had an encounter with the first incarnation of James Bond himself, Sean Connery. Apparently Stompanato was jealous of Connery's interaction with actress Lana Turner, who Stompanato had a relationship with, and he threatened Connery at gunpoint, but Connery bent his hand back, making him drop his gun and run off. A pretty interesting story if you want to look it up. For the code names that Bourne and Nicky say, "Greengrass" refers to the director of _The Bourne Supremacy_ and _The Bourne Ultimatum_, Paul Greengrass, and "Brownjohn" refers to Robert Brownjohn, designer of the British cinematic poster of the third Bond movie, _Goldfinger_. Also, I wrote in this chapter the classic throwing of the hat Bond does in most of the older Bond movies that occurs in Moneypenny's office.**

**There was originally supposed to be a long interaction with Q after M says he wants his jacket back, and he would then introduce the story's gadgets (yes there will be SOME gadgets, nothing too extreme) and possibly... a new Aston Martin. Its deletion makes this the shortest of the chapters so far, the first two being 9-10 pages long and this one being 6-7 in length (excluding the author's notes).**

**Last thing: Special thanks to The Queen's Fabler and Sweet Adagio for being the first two to review the story. Thanks!**


	4. Chapter 4

**London Heathrow Airport  
****1812 Hours**

Bourne exited the walkway from where his eight hour flight landed. It was around 45 minutes til night. He made his way through the waiting area in Terminal 3, carrying an over-the-shoulder bag that held only clothes and a variety of currencies in decent amounts. Anything else he and Nicky would have needed would already be at the safe house location.

He made his way out the exit and called for an oncoming, unoccupied taxi and got in.

"Where will it be, sir?" asked the cab driver.

"Sloane Avenue, Chelsea," Bourne replied. As the driver pulled away from the airport, Bourne couldn't help but feel something was off...

* * *

Bond watched the taxi drive away, waiting til it was a sizable distance enough for him to ignite the engine to his black Mercedes C Class. The Aston Martin would have been too conspicuous to tail the taxi he was in with. He began driving meters behind the cab in the opposite lane.

_Where exactly are you going?_ Bond thought to himself.

Minutes passed as Bond followed, making sure to not attract any attention. When Bourne's taxi pulled into the parking entrance of an apartment complex in South Kensington, Bond continued down the road to the next turn and got out. He ran to the apartment building.

As Bond was about to enter, he noticed two bunches of balloons placed on each side of the entrance. He discretely took out a pocket knife and cut one free, taking it in with him and approaching the girl at the front desk.

"Hello, sir," she greeted.

"Hello," he said back with a smile. "Um, could you help me? I'm here to surprise an old friend. It's his Birthday and he doesn't know I'm here yet but he just entered. Brown jumper, black trousers, American?"

"Oh, you're a friend of Mr. Hanes? He doesn't usually come here at all, really. Flat 411. Third floor."

"Thank you," said Bond and he made his way to the stairs, letting go of the balloon. As he went up the next few floors, he slid out his concealed Walther PPK and took it off safety. He entered the hallway of the third floor and walked down it until he reached room 411.

Bond knocked on the door. "Mr. Hanes ?" He knocked again. "This is the manager. I've been informed of a water leak beneath this floor. Do you mind if I check?" After waiting a few seconds, Bond knew it wouldn't work and fastened his silencer to his pistol.

Bond began turning the doorknob, and to his surprise, it was open. He slowly opened it, seeing the layout of the room before entering. The flat was practically empty except for furniture, a glass table in the center of the living room and a TV turned off.

He looked further down the flat and heard the sound of running water. Bond walked to the closed bathroom door, his pistol aimed low. "Mr. Hanes?" he called again. He reached the bathroom door and slowly began opening. As the door opened, Bond could hardly see in the steam created by the shower's hot water. That's when...

* * *

Bourne, who had located himself behind the door, kicked the opening door back, hitting the pursuer. He then sprinted at the man in the black coat, grabbing his wrist to raise his pistol away from him, and tackled him against the wall in the living room.

Bourne slammed his wrist against the wall twice, making the pursuer lose his grip of the silenced Walther PPK.

* * *

As Bond's pistol fell from his hand, he kicked in Bourne's right knee and elbowed him in the jaw, making him step back. After, Bond stepped forward to punch Bourne on the left side of his chest, but Bourne managed to block blow after blow with such speed and ferocity.

* * *

Bourne was surprised at the man's speed. Almost every punch he tried to get in was blocked. They were practically equals in hand to hand combat.

When realizing simple hand and kick attacks would do no well against each other, each of them grasped each other's shoulders and rushed into the living room. They both crashed side first and fell into the glass table in the center of the room, making it shatter into several pieces.

As the two lay in the glass fragments, both weakened from the impact, Bourne noticed the window in the living room. It was big enough to jump from and the next building's roof was just below it. Bourne got up fast while the attacker was still struggling to get up. He ran to the window and jumped forward, breaking through the glass and rolling onto the rooftop a few feet away.

* * *

As Bond stood up, he grunted in pain. He thought again how empty the flat was and how little Bourne carried with him.

_This was never his destination._ Bond realized. _He knew I've been following him since the airport. This was a bloody decoy!_

Bond quickly picked up his pistol and readied himself at the broken window. He jumped to the next roof and ran.

* * *

Bourne sprinted to the end of the rooftop. He looked behind him and saw a figure in the distance of the pursuer jumping out of the window, running towards him. Bourne looked over the ledge and saw the stairs of a fire escape below.

He lowered himself over the edge of the building, hanging onto the ledge. He reached for the window's ledge beneath and climbed down. When both his hands gripped the window ledge, he looked down and decided it was a safe enough distance to let go.

Bourne landed on the top platform of the fire escape and ran down the series of stairs next to him. He reached a ladder at the bottom platform and, holding onto the two side bars of the ladder with his hands and feet, he slid down to the sidewalk.

* * *

When Bond reached the edge of the roof, he looked down and saw the route on the fire escape Bourne used to reach the ground. He saw Bourne running on the sidewalk below. It would have taken to long to imitate Bourne's descent, so 007 decided to run to the next roof in the direction that Bourne was running. He jumped to it.

* * *

As Bourne ran, he pushed his way past several people. He looked behind to the roof he just escaped from, but the pursuer wasn't there... he was jumping across the rooftops above him. Ahead of him, Bourne could see a building with several balconies alined outside its windows. If his pursuer reached them, he could easily descend from them.

However, the sidewalk looked more crowded a ways down. If he could get there and cause a distraction, he could get lost in the crowd. He noticed an exhaust vent coming from a building just ahead, blowing up hot air. He had a plan.

* * *

Bond jumped to the next roof and took a look at the side of the building in front of him. The balconies would provide a way down to the sidewalk. He made a running start then leaped onto the first one in front of him, making it over its railings. He readied his foot on the next rail, then jumped to the next one down.

* * *

Bourne slowed his pace to a steady quick-walk, seeing the pursuer climbing over the lowest balcony and dropping. People around him were curious, but no one curious enough to ask about it. The pursuer walked at a slightly faster speed than Bourne, not wanting to catch attention from any more passing civilians. Bourne looked at the vent again. _Just a few more meters._

Every step he took was a step where his pursuer took two. He was catching up.

As Bourne nearly reached the vent, he slid his hand into his bag. He took one more step, and just as he passed the vent, he threw the stack of pound sterling banknotes he brought with him into the way of the vent, which sent the papers blowing in all directions.

* * *

As Bond saw the crowd gather at the floating money, his sight of Bourne soon became lost. _No. No. No!_ he thought. He ran forward, trying to push through the crowd. After making it through seconds later, he turned the corner and saw no trace of Bourne. No one wearing a brown sweater.

* * *

Bourne walked a normal, steady speed after he turned the corner and quickly put a white hoodie he pulled out from his bag over his brown sweater. Hopefully, it would be enough for his pursuer to be thrown off. When he looked behind to check his pursuer had left, he called for another taxi, giving the address to the real safe house.

* * *

"Damn!" Bond exclaimed under his breath. He turned back around, trying to make his way back to the Mercedes. Although Bourne may have gotten away, it didn't matter...

After he and Bourne crashed through the glass table in the flat, Bourne looked away as he noticed the window as an escape. Discretely, Bond was able to slip a tracker left over from Q's jacket that he saved after the Stompanato incident into a small side pouch on Bourne's bag.

Bond took out his smart phone and selected his contact. He was calling Q.

"_Q here,"_ he picked up.

"Q? I need a trace on a tracker. The one that was in your jacket."

"_Just a moment, 007. This may take a bit."_ he replied. Bond reached his car and waited several minutes. Q picked up again. _"Bond? I found it. It's not far. It's just settled at 140 Edgware Road."_

"Got it," Bond answered as he started the Mercedes.

"_Something tells me it didn't go quite as planned?"_

"Goodbye, Q," Bond said annoyed before he hung up.

* * *

As Bourne waited in the rising elevator of the apartment building on 140 Edgware Road, he put the white hoodie that helped hide him back in the main pouch of his bag. The doors separated and he walked to the apartment door at the end of the hall. He knocked five times.

Bourne could hear footsteps coming from inside the apartment, approaching the door. "Who is it?" asked a female voice. It was Nicky.

"It's me," Bourne answered. He heard turning of the lock and the door opened.

Nicky Parsons stood there. She wrapped her arms around him, relieved to see him.

"David, what happened? Why did it take so long to get here?"

"Let's get inside first," Bourne replied.

As they entered, Bourne recognized the apartment he picked out what seemed like a lifetime ago. There were no windows except for one in the bedroom, however he made sure there were no possible vantage points from the outside.

The flat was one of several places he kept around the world in all the major and important cities. His rent fees were linked to several different bank accounts all using different names and aliases. Luckily, they were still operational since his days as a CIA assassin. He set up the accounts without the CIA's knowing, and not even he remembered their existence until his amnesia was fully nullified. The apartment he led the man in the black coat to was a decoy. He always made sure to have at least one in the event of being followed, which was just proven to have good use.

"So," Nicky began as they stood in the kitchen, "...what happened?"

"I already told you all I know about the attack in D.C., but today at the airport I was followed by someone I led to a decoy apartment."

"And then?" Nicky requested him to continue.

"We fought. I was able to escape. Barely. He was highly skilled."

"Is it the same attacker from D.C.?" she asked.

"I don't think so. I don't see how he would have managed to know about the flight to London so soon after the attack."

"Can you describe him?"

Bourne recollected the features of the man he fought. "Tall. Around 6' 2''. Short, light brown hair. Bright blue eyes. ...He used a Walther PPK."

Nicky's eyes widened in recollection. Bourne paused as he noticed and stepped forward, waiting for an explanation.

"After I left Treadstone, for a while, ...I did a bit of filing for a branch in the CIA. They inserted one of their best men into a game of Texas Hold 'Em in Montenegro to stop someone from winning the money in order fund terrorist plots. Leiter, I think his name was. He reported the presence of an MI6 agent, one who was able to beat the man the CIA was after. One who was exactly as you described."

Bourne remained silent. _MI6?_ "What was his name?" he asked.

Nicky remembered. "...Bond,"

* * *

"...James Bond," he introduced himself to the front desk manager of the complex. "Has an American recently come through here?"

"...Well," the manager stood in thought, "the bloke who just checked in a few minutes ago was an American."

"Let me guess. He doesn't normally come here very often."

"Now that you mention it, no."

"I don't suppose I could have his room number? He scheduled a meeting with us." Bond took out a business card and handed it to the manager.

"Universal Exports?" he read. "Alright then, uh..." he began reading over the check-in list. "Mr. Barnes is located in room 307. Would you like me to call up, sir?"

"Uh, no. No need, thanks." As Bond was about to walk away, the manager looked at him, puzzled. "Can I help?" Bond asked.

"It's probably nothing, but a year ago, weren't you in the papers? On the obituary columns? I remember it wasn't to long before the death of that MI6 woman, uh..."

"Well, I can assure you," interrupted Bond. "I'm certainly not dead. Perhaps I just have one of those faces."

* * *

"What does MI6 want with me?" Bourne asked.

"I don't know." Nicky thought. "I could try to get in touch with people I've kept in contact with inside CIA. They don't know of any connection we've kept after Tangier. With any luck, they'll still grant me access."

"If you want to try, go ahead, but if anything seems off, we have to move again."

Nicky nodded. "Do you still have that list of contacts?"

As Bourne filled a cup with water from the sink, he gestured into the living room.

"It's in the pack," he replied. "Outer pouch on the side."

Nicky went into the living room and clipped open the side pouch. She reached in to grab a folded card with known contacts she knew from her days in the CIA. As she pulled out the card, her hand bumped into something small... metallic. Around the size of a matchbox. She slowly reached in and found the little device, a small antenna sticking out from its top corner.

"Uh... David," Nicky asked, gradually growing in fear. Jason looked at her from the kitchen as he lowered his drinking glass from his mouth. "What's this?" she asked as she held the device up.

Bourne's eyes widened and he placed his glass on the counter. He put his index finger to his lips, telling Nicky to remain silent. He slowly turned to the door and brought his left eye close to the peep hole.

Outside, the pursuer from before raised his knee as he readied to kick the door in...

* * *

Bond slammed his foot into the door as he held his silenced Walther PPK. As the door swung open, wood splintering on its sides, Bond readied his pistol. As he looked in, he noticed a woman in a brown blouse and a tan skirt. Brown hair with slight hints of blond that went down to her neck. She looked on in fear.

As Bond entered, he began to ask her, "Where-," but he was interrupted by a blow to the back of his neck. Bourne had put himself in the corner of the kitchen, behind where the door was broken open. Bond stumbled forwards as he began turning to aim behind him.

Before his pistol could be aimed at him, Bourne slammed down hard on Bond's wrist with his left elbow as he moved in to punch Bond on the left side of his chest with his right fist. As Bourne's fist collided with his ribs, Bond grabbed his right arm with his hand now freed due to him dropping the gun when his wrist was hit.

With his right elbow, Bond slammed it down on Bourne's and they pulled each other towards the sink, further into the kitchen. As they did, Nicky ran forward to grab Bond's dropped pistol, but he kicked it back with his heel. The two men collided into the counter as they released their grip on each other.

The two punched at each other with immense speed in ferocity once again. After both of them did several successful deflections with their forearms, Bourne noticed the cabinet door on the wall above the sink. He swung it open, trying to smash it into Bond's face, but bond was to quick and shielded himself with his arms. As Bond blocked the cabinet door with his arms, Jason quickly grabbed his drinking glass he left on the counter and tossed it at Bond's head. The glass connected with great impact as it made a thud and Bond held his forehead as he stumbled back against the kitchen wall.

Bourne seized the opportunity. He grabbed Bond's shoulders and quickly pulled him to the kitchen table across from them, slamming his back down on it. Bourne held him by the collar while Nicky stood in the living room holding a phone she considered dialing for help but could have blown the location of Jason's safe-house.

"Why are you after me?" exclaimed Bourne. He tightened his grip on Bond's shirt collar and slammed his back into the table after refusing to answer. "Why are you trying to kill me?!"

Bond replied, his voice hoarse, "I'm not!"

When Bourne heard him, he thought back to their encounter in the decoy apartment. "Then why-"

Before Bourne could finish his question... _Bfft!-_ a muffled bang burst through the kitchen wall where the sink was located and left a bullet hole in the wall a foot above and to the left of Bond. Nicky yelped in shock. _Bfft! Bfft! Bfft!_ Three more followed.

Bourne pulled Bond off the table and flipped it over. The two rushed behind it in cover while Nicky stood behind the wall in the living room.

"Friends of yours?" asked Bourne as two more shots came into the room, one of them hitting the top edge of the table.

"No!" Bond shouted. "Yours?"

"I don't know!" Bourne replied.

* * *

Two rooftops across, Kirill laid on his stomach, aimed through the customized infrared scope of the RT-20 sniper rifle given to him courteously by his previous employer who he only knew as "Mr.P." Kirill saw through the scope three figures in the rooms behind the wall. Two of them in cover and one of them behind a wall separating the rooms.

The infrared wasn't incredibly clear through the walls. He could tell that the figure in the other room than the two in cover was feminine, meaning that his target was one of the two in cover. He couldn't take his chances. He aimed at both and pulled the trigger.

* * *

_Bfft!_

"We have to get out of here!" Bond exclaimed. "We can't leave through where we came. We'd be out of cover and my gun's over there!"

"There's a fire escape out the back." Bourne planned. "It's through the window in the bedroom."

"You've got any guns?" asked Bond as another two rounds went through the walls.

"I keep one in there too."

"Alright... On the count of three, we'll move this table with us!"

Bourne nodded in agreement. The two grabbed the rims underneath the top of the titled table.

"Nicky," shouted Bourne as her head looked at them from around the corner of the wall. "Get to the bathroom! We're headed your way and the shooter isn't after you."

Nicky nodded and rushed to the room further away from them. Bond looked to Bourne as another shot came close to going through the center of the table.

"You ready?" Bond asked. Bourne nodded. "One..." he counted.

"Two..." counted Bourne.

"Three!" They lifted together and moved their way out of the kitchen and into the living room, where the entrance to the bedroom was. They moved the table in front of the entrance just as another shot came in and took the top corner off the table where Bourne was.

They quickly retreated into the bedroom and shut the door. Bourne opened the dresser in the room and slid out a Glock 17 concealed by a false back he placed in front of it. He picked up the silencer next to it and slid it behind his belt.

"Whoever is shooting at us clearly has advanced scoping," said Bond.

"What's going on?" asked Bourne.

"...What?"

"MI6! Why were you after me?!"

Bond approached Bourne. "You didn't think we'd let you just waltz right into this country without getting our attention after what happened at Waterloo, did you?!"

Bourne remained silent.

Bond continued. "I followed you to find out your motives for being here."

"Well the bullets being fired at us is why. Hours ago I was the target for an assassination. I came here to meet Nicky, the girl out there, so we could lay low and find out what was happening."

"How did he know where to find you?" asked Bond.

"I don't know," Bourne replied. "He obviously has a reliable source, though."

"Alright," said Bond. "What's the plan?"

"...We have two options. A: Go down the fire escape and make our way across the streets where the shooter could likely have a vantage point over us, or B: Use it to go up to the roof and try to make our way across the rooftops."

"But we'll be on equal ground! He'd have a clear shot ahead."

"Except we have a gun too. He'd have more of an advantage from above and up here we have a clearer shot. Down there, not much. You can make your way towards him while I lay suppressing fire."

Bond thought to himself that Bourne's logic made sense. He nodded. "Plan B it is."

* * *

Kirill kept an eye on the building ahead as well as checked the streets below. He waited for a target. He was not prepared to let Bourne get away due to an interference.

Across the rooftops, Kirill noticed a figure highlighted in red from his scope. As he was about to fire, the figure fired two shots in his direction from a pistol. He quickly got up and moved to a position behind metal ventilation shafts that led into the building he was standing on. He reset his rifle.

* * *

"Hurry!" Bourne shouted as he climbed up to the roof and took cover behind a brick wall with chimney pots going through them. Bond was just reaching the top of the ladder when a silenced round went right past his head. _Wfft! _He quickly ducked his head back down.

Bourne aimed towards the source of the gunshot and fired another shot. As he did, Bond quickly climbed to the top of the roof, he took cover behind the base of a billboard advertisement.

"We need to get over there somehow," said Bourne.

Bond looked up and noticed that pieces of the billboard weren't glued down yet. He looked next to him and noticed cans of glue, right next to them was a wooden ladder.

"Leave that to me," replied Bond. He reached down and grabbed a side of the ladder, holding it in both his hands. "Cover me," he said and Bourne nodded.

Bond exited cover as he ran for the end of the building. Before the assailant could fire, Bourne aimed blindly through the darkness in the direction the previous shots came from and fired. Bond quickly slid the ladder over the edge of the roof's rim all the way to the next rooftop that was an alleyway's distance over.

"Come on!" he shouted to Bourne.

Bourne exited cover and fired blindly again. Bond mounted the edge of the roof and, one foot after another, began running across on the ladder handlebars. Bourne soon followed, constantly keeping his pistol aimed.

* * *

_They're getting closer._ Kirill thought to himself. The shots they fired were getting closer towards him and they made it to the next roof already. They would make the next one in no time.

_I found him once, he can be found again._ Kirill twisted a dial on the end of the rifle's grip. It was timed. He turned and made his way to the edge of the room, hooking a cable attached to his vest to a metal railing he climbed over the edge and began to rappel down.

* * *

Bond and Bourne had slid the ladder over to the roof their attacker was on. Bourne kept his Glock aimed and ready.

"Look," said Bond as he noticed the rifle laying by the series of ventilation shafts. "RT-20. Customized infrared scope and magazine by the looks of it."

"Let's take it back," said Bourne as he began walking towards it. "We can try to tra-"

Bond cut him off as he quickly pushed him back from the rifle. "Wait, wait wait!"

The rifle began glowing a bright orange in certain places as sparks began to fly off it. The grip and body of the gun were burning at an immense temperature.

"Thermite," said Bond. "Specially installed in certain areas under the armor of the gun to eliminate any way of making it traceable."

"I haven't seen anything like that before," said Bourne. "And I've seen much."

"I recently stopped a man selling weapons like this on the black market."

"...So how do we find _this_ guy?" asked Bourne.

Bond came to a sudden realization. "It's possible your man and my mission are connected. The night I killed the seller, I placed a tracker on one of the shipping crates. If we find the buyer, then it's possible we have a lead on your assassin. I need to find out where it ended up," he said as he dialed Q.

"_Bond?"_ Q picked up.

"Q, I need to know where the signal on the weapons crate from the other day is located. Has it arrived where it was sent?"

"_Just a moment,"_ said Q. _"It appears it has stopped. It's in... Africa."_

"Where in Africa?" Bond replied.

"_...Sierra Leone."_

Bond nodded as he thought. "Send the coordinates to my phone and call for a private jet. I'm heading there now."

"_Wait, what about Bour-" _Q was cut off by Bond hanging up.

"Sierra Leone?" asked Bourne.

"Apparently," Bond replied. "I'll fly there tonight. You and your female companion can stay at MI-"

"What?" Bourne interrupted. "No. I'm coming with you."

"Um, I don't think so. It's my mission."

"And my life on the line."

Bond was about to speak out against it, but sighed and remained silent.

"And besides," continued Bourne. "Two guns can occasionally be a lot better than one."

He held out his hand to Bond, seeing as they had not properly introduced. Bond took his hand and shook it.

"Bond," he said.

"Bourne." Jason replied.

* * *

**Author's Note: Well, that's finally over with. Out of all the chapters so far, I have to say this was the most stressful to write due to the fact that this is the first meeting of the two characters. I hope you, the readers, like the way it was executed and that none of them were written too out of character. There were a lot of ways I could have done this. In fact I highly considered having Bond simply pull up to Bourne in an Aston Martin and say "Get in," in homage to Quantum of Solace, but that would have been pretty dull.**

**I have a few things set up for future chapters: Their operation in Sierra Leone, Kirill still after Bourne, as well as the mysterious "Mr.P." I know I already released his name in the second chapter, but I'm writing it like this for the sake of dramatic irony.**

**Also for the sake of keeping with Bond tradition, I chose a "Bond" song which normally plays over the introduction credits after a prologue. After you go back and reread the end section of the second chapter, look up the song "Supremacy" by Muse and just imagine a Bond intro. The song has a classy string symphonic element reminiscent of Bond, but also a hard, gritty edge to it which works well for the Bourne element of this story. Not to mention "Supremacy" was the word for the second Bourne story.**

**If you're a Bond fan, you probably already know that the next Bond movie is going to be "SPECTRE" and that Daniel Craig will be returning. This story was originally going to have subtle hints in it at the existence of SPECTRE, but now I'm not sure if I should considering I don't know how the next film will play out.**

**And if you're a Bourne fan, you might have heard that Matt Damon is supposed to be coming back for the fifth Bourne movie (though I'm not sure if Jeremy Renner is coming back to reprise his role as Aaron Cross from the Bourne Legacy) and I know I'm excited for it.**

**Please leave any reviews you want for questions or input as to how certain events should play out or how the two protagonists should interact.**

**P.S. This is unrelated to the story, but Leonard Nimoy has passed away today. RIP.**


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